Friday, August 25, 2017


Apres Roddy Doyle and his Two Pints. Two? Pussy! This is Six Cans And A Barrel Load of Benzos and it was inspired by a reading I did a week or so ago in the park by Patrick's Cathedral. Given the booze and the benzos, it's fluid, a counter gravity work in progress. Let's go bud. Yeah? Yeah! You ready? Fuck you Roddy!

Scene: St Patrick's Cathedral Park, lunchtime of a relatively fine Saturday.

SFX: Kevin performing

"That's not fucking poetry
That doesn't rhyme.
You know what I mean"

"Yeah. He's all pent up all right
But he doesn't know his arse
from his iambics."

"Yeah bud.
You can't compare this shite to a fuckin summer's day.
You know what I mean.
And the fuckin rain man.
Maybe we should go.
You know what I mean"

"Go where you fuckin pox bottle?
Crack open a can.
And drown out fuckin Shakespeare up there"

"You know Shakespeare you know what I mean bud..."


'Well what is the fucking answer like you know what I mean?"

"Answer to wha? What the fuck is the question. What the fuck are you on about?"

"To be or not to ... like you know what I mean."

"You for fuckin real?
That's the fuckin benzos talkin
You fuckin eejit.
You're fuckin worse than that fuckin prick up there.
Shakespeare me hole.
What's wrong with nursery rhymes for fuck's sake?
And who let these pricks in "

"I dunno. Fucking Humpty Dumpty"

"Humpty Fuckin that's the truth."

"The poetic truth."

"Couldn't have said a truer word Bud."

"Yeah, yeah yeah. Couple of zimmos yeah?"


'Here. To your good health bud."

"And fuck all these cunts"

'They're fucking King's Men the whole fucking lot of them."

"Fucking King's fucking men."

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